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When the Shoe is on the Other's Foot
by Aditya Dev Sood

The Truth in Wine Labels
by Aditya Dev Sood


When the Shoe is on the Other's Foot by Aditya Dev Sood


Some years ago, I was walking around the lifestyle and fashion district of Milan, when I came upon a pair of sandals. Outrageously priced, they looked to me like something straight out of a Charlton Heston movie, updated only by the deep lamp black in which they had been rendered. I was overcome by a longing that seemed to be deepened by knowing things about the provenance and meaning of this design -- these were Roman sandals, produced and worn in Italy since the times of Cicero, Asterix and Jesus. To pop them on and to walk about airports and cafes around the world seemed to me an unimaginable delight, connecting me back to Rome's historic past in a quiet but real way.

In my mind's eye I was a legionnaire, an early Christian, a movie extra. To those around me, perhaps, I was a technology consultant from Bangalore who enjoyed wearing sandals to work. Both views have their merits. You can decide for yourself, for the sandal is pictured above, on my left foot.

On my right foot, you will no doubt recognize our own proud example of sandal design, the Peshawari Chappal, which is constructed of two parallel leather straps, rising from either side of the foot and crossing over, to be clasped at the back of the ankle. It is, apparently, as ancient and elegant a design as the Roman sandal, and in many ways it is, in fact quite superior.

During these cold days of winter you can wear socks with your Peshawaris, but come summer there are enough reveals around the toe and arch to allow your foot to breathe, and lower your overall body temperature. While other kinds of sandals may be barred at Gymkhana Clubs and other post-colonial institutions, the strap at the back of the Peshawari will see you through past the rules against native sandals and other irregular garb. They look fetching with a safari suit, and complement sunglasses and men's wrist-pouch, but their main utility is to anchor a man's salwar kameez or sherwani.

They also look sturdy and menacing enough to give you the edge in the street, where they look like they would make any brother-in-law think twice, should your feet need to do the talking. In Bhogal, Lajpat Nagar, and Khan Market, what Peshawari chappals really mean is that my family got off a bloody train from Pakistan, and we haven't forgotten who we are. Back in Greater Punjab, we were landlords, and these are the shoes in which we were used to treading confidently about the lands to which we were born.

What gives mere things the power to fire our imagination this way? We do not really know, and we disguise our ignorance of this mysterious power by giving it a name, which is the word 'design.' What these two examples make clear, though, is that whatever we mean by design is also shaped by cultural knowledge, by historical memory, by regional associations.

In a world awash with rootless objects and meaningless forms, whenever we recognize design, we are also experiencing things which have been touched by human minds, and by individual or collective narratives, which give name and meaning to otherwise silent objects.

Aditya Dev Sood runs the innovation consulting firm : Center for Knowledge Societies (www.cks.in).

He can be reached at
  adityadevsood@gmail.com.

 
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The Truth in Wine Labels by Aditya Dev Sood

India's wine revolution is now fully underway, with over a dozen vineyards registered north of Bangalore and about 22 outside of Nasik, north-east of Mumbai. But a decade ago, there were only two serious contenders, the vineyards of Grover and Sula, themselves young upstarts, each of them pioneers of the two emerging wine regions. Regardless of how India's many future vintages taste, what should Indian wine look like? A quick comparison of these two established labels might suggest some answers.

Grover has allowed repeated face-lifts to its premium product, La Reserve, which nowadays sports a square off-white label with gilt edging. The Grover logo and logotypes are printed in gold, as is the name of Michel Rolland, the flying French vintner, who has nurtured the Grover experiment for years. At the bottom, near the center, it is quietly inscribed, 'Wine of India,' which appears to have been reverse-translated from the original French.

At first glance, the label's composition is suggestive of classic Bordeaux wine labels. Closer up, the label looks somehow inauthentic and pro-forma. It is smooth and unyielding to the touch, the gold is too mechanically applied and the paper glossy and impersonal. The design of the label may be saying all the right things, perhaps, but not with the right accent.

The Sula bottle is emblazoned with a coy, smiling sun, whose rays dance outwards in all directions. This Bhaskara, this Surya, this Aditya has an unmistakeably Hindu mustache, twirling upward at the tav, involuting further, into a pair of question-marks. Reminiscent of royal sculpture from Gandhara through to Java, it represents masculine virtue. As if to confirm that this is indeed an Indian sun, he bears a Vaishnava sandalwood marking upon his forehead. Wine grapes are difficult to grow in India because of the higher temperatures, our scalding sun, but the Sula label seems to take this challenge head on, turning it to virtue -- for it is that last kiss of the sun that will give the Shiraz grapes their most subtle sugars, to eventually leave behind complex lingering flavors in the wine.

The label runs down the bottle, to form an elongated rectangle, which unfortunately crops some of the sun's rays. The logotype and other product details use a stylized and fun sans-serif font. The Sula label offers an informality and openness that seems positively Californian, even though the idiom and meanings are so obviously local. The label proposes a frank, modern, global way of being Indian, that remains current, even though it was likely designed a decade ago. In some sense, therefore, Sula has learned from the strategies adopted by other new wine countries -- California, Australia, Chile -- in exploring a way to create a distinctive visual identity for its wine.

Thousands of categories of products in India today face the same kind of challenge today -- how to be Indian, while creating and offering something that has never been seen in India before? How to communicate international standards of quality, while also preserving local distinction and creating distinctiveness? How to be authentic somehow, to our own emerging, changing selves? My own preferences are clear enough, yet there can be no easy answers, only honest attempts to serially, iteratively, engage the question.

What's in the bottle is suggested by what's on the label, and therein lies the promise -- or betrayal -- of the truth that is in wine. For that I've had to open these two bottles here, and give them a few minutes to breathe, before decanting them into these two identical glasses.

The Sula holds up pretty well against the La Reserve, but who really knows truth when holding wine in his glass? A toast to both vineyards, then, for this is a column not on wine, but on design.

Aditya Dev Sood runs the innovation consulting firm : Center for Knowledge Societies (www.cks.in).

He can be reached at
  adityadevsood@gmail.com.

 
 
 
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